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It is hard for me to put into words why it is this memoir did not resonate with me, and why I didn’t feel it succeeded. Still, this is a review, so I’ll try.

Firstly, it felt like Rupaul cared more about being quotable than about being vulnerable. His writing style was so flowery and focused on being quotable, it distracted from him actually telling his story. It felt like he was preaching about life instead of just telling us about his. There were moments throughout where it felt a bit more authentic, specifically when he was speaking about his now husband, but for the most part, there seemed to me an undercurrent of marketing over truth. I suppose, it’s on brand for Rupaul, but I’m disappointed the memoir wasn’t a bit more raw and vulnerable. Everything that happened had a quotable sentiment afterwards about life’s hidden meanings, and deep thoughts, and word play word play word play

Secondly, I think this memoir alienates Rupaul from the rest of drag culture even further than he has started to become. The memoir paints a very removed drag queen from the real drag scene of the world. Rupaul admits that drag for him was never about community or creativity but about being famous. Drag was a means to get famous and he even admits that becoming the polished “supermodel�� version of Rupaul that ultimately led to his fame, was all because he saw power and money in changing. Essentially to me the memoir is about a boy who wants to be famous, and the steps they take to become famous. Drag was never about the art, the community, the defiance for Rupaul. It was a means in which he saw a path to stardom.
With this information, it’s harder for me to accept their personal narrative of being Queen of Drag. This does however, explain more about why Rupaul is so rarely in drag anymore.

I think I went in with higher hopes than I should have and this ultimately felt like a let down.